


Abounding with Stars

by markwatnae (bertie)



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Asexual Character, Asexuality, M/M, Master & Padawan Relationship(s), Medical Procedures, Non-Graphic Violence, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Romantic Relationship, non-sexual relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-04
Updated: 2016-06-22
Packaged: 2018-07-11 16:59:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7061602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bertie/pseuds/markwatnae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jedi Padawan Qui-Gon Jinn is severely injured on a mission to Corellia with his master, Obi-Wan Kenobi. During the arduous process of recovery, he reveals the strong emotions he has long since felt for his master, and Obi-Wan assures him his feelings are reciprocated. The very beginning of their relationship turns rocky when Qui-Gon's injury is found to be serious than originally thought.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One

Obi-Wan is relieved that Qui-Gon manages to remain mostly uninjured for the first several years of his apprenticeship. Obi-Wan himself is usually the one who needs rescuing or medical attention. His Padawan teases him that somehow trouble always manages to track him down. Seeing the untainted protective fire in Qui-Gon’s eyes when he is defending him is humbling.

But when an actual bullet tears straight through Qui-Gon’s abdomen on a mission to Corellia, Obi-Wan learns how deeply his love for his student runs. His body moves as if on autopilot, his mind completely occupied on their training bond—the strongest ever in the history of the Order—and Qui-Gon’s feeble attempts to rise from the ground.

Nothing comes within a three-meter radius of them. If the criminals advance, they are pushed back by blaster shots returned by lightsaber or the Force itself drives them away. Obi-Wan is shocked to his core at the carnal urge to kill if necessary to protect his Padawan. There is no tinge of Darkness to his thoughts, simply the need to keep the young man safe at all costs. The criminals are giving up now, retreating behind buildings and jumping onto speeders.

He can hear Qui-Gon crying softly, attempting to smother the sound so Obi-Wan does not hear him. Obi-Wan cannot remember ever discouraging this natural response, but at eighteen the need to appear invincible is very coercive. The sound breaks his heart and he finally deactivates his lightsaber, calling Qui-Gon’s to his hand and clipping it to his belt beside his own. When he kneels at his Padawan’s side, Qui-Gon tries to choke back the tears, swallowing his sob.

His wound is ugly and bleeding steadily. Qui-Gon’s strength is waning and his pressure on the injury has slipped. Obi-Wan strips out of his robe quickly and folds it up in his hands.

“If I can get you on your feet, do you think you can walk?” He asks, pressing his robe to the bullet wound and burying a flinch at his student’s agonized howl.

“Yes,” he grinds out, tears slipping down his temples and into his hair.

Obi-Wan doubts it is a truthful answer, but levers him up onto his feet quickly. He almost immediately crumples to his knees with a hideous cry, but Obi-Wan catches him before he can sink too far. Qui-Gon had just finished another growth spurt and now he towers over Obi-Wan, but a little touch of the Force keeps him cradled in his arms quite comfortably. He is sobbing, muttering _I’m sorry_ over and over into Obi-Wan’s shoulder.

“Why in the stars are you apologizing to me?” He demands as he searches for their ship at the port.

Qui-Gon is shivering—not good.

“I f-failed you,” he says, and he believes it.

Obi-Wan lets out a dirty expletive in Huttese, but finally locates the ship. Thank the Force it has a very big cabinet of medical supplies.

“You did no such thing. You took an _actual bullet_ meant for me and still managed to fend off a few blasts while I got everything under control. If anyone failed, it was me because I couldn’t keep you safe.”

He dashes up the ramp and carefully deposits his Padawan on the spacious bunk with stern orders not to move. Qui-Gon’s miserable tear-stained face is one he is not likely to forget in the next century.

Once safely in hyperspace, he empties the medical supply cabinet and drags it all back to the bunk where he can feel Qui-Gon clinging desperately to consciousness. While he busies his hands cutting away clothing, he focuses his mind on coaxing Qui-Gon’s into more alertness.

“Do your best to release what you can, but I’m still going to give you drugs to ease your pain in just a moment.”

Qui-Gon nods, and Obi-Wan feels him releasing some of his pain into the Force. The attempt is admirable, but the pain is too encompassing.

“Good, just like that,” he croons, encouraging him to continue. It will allow him to focus his mind elsewhere and restore a little of his faith in himself. “Stay focused because this is going to hurt a lot.”

Qui-Gon does not scream as loud as Obi-Wan had predicted which could be the effect of many variables. The alcohol disinfects the wound but hurts more than being burned with a lightsaber, and Obi-Wan apologizes repeatedly, reaching out to smooth his hair comfortingly. He packs gauze over the wound and tapes it down thoroughly. He bends over and digs through the supplies until he finds a syringe of antibiotics and another of strong pain relief.

“This pain medication is going to make you feel horrible, but at least you won’t be in pain for our trip home,” he explains as he gives Qui-Gon both injections.

“I don’t care,” is his whimpered reply.

A moment passes. Qui-Gon shuts his eyes tight.

“Oh _gods_.”

Obi-Wan smiles humorlessly. “I know. It’s horrible, but it works.”

Once Obi-Wan is finished tending to his Padawan, he allows himself to finally rid his body of the adrenaline still curled in his stomach. Qui-Gon continues shivering, and Obi-Wan drapes the thick blanket from the bunk over him. He leans over and strokes his hair, hoping to offer him some kind of comfort. It seems to work and Qui-Gon relaxes under his touch, though he does not stop shaking.

Qui-Gon’s grip on his hand is slack but it soothes the boy for Obi-Wan to be touching him in some way. After Qui-Gon’s hand grows chilled, Obi-Wan pushes their tangle of hands underneath the blanket to keep them warm. He smoothes his fingers over the soft skin, tracing the bones and joints of each long finger. He listens intently to every breath Qui-Gon takes and even quiets himself enough to hear his heartbeat through their bond.

The trip to Coruscant is short, but it seems to drag by as Obi-Wan watches his Padawan suffer. Healers are waiting at the dock for them with a hover-gurney and the large Wookiee healer sprints up the ramp as soon as it is lowered. Obi-Wan meets him and brings him to the bunk. Qui-Gon is still unconscious, but he is no longer sure if that is a good sign.

Healer Gradrrl carefully gathers Qui-Gon into his arms, and Obi-Wan’s gut clenches when he hears Qui-Gon’s soft whimper.

 _“The Council is waiting in the Halls. You can speak with them there while we stabilize him,”_ Gradrrl says, and Obi-Wan nods.

He follows the Healers as they move quickly through the Temple, but his own injuries and exhaustion quickly catch up to him. As each moment passes, he feels closer and closer to collapsing. His knees buckle once he steps into the Halls of Healing and the ground tilts up to meet him until someone grabs him under his arms.

“ _Sith_ , Obi-Wan, I thought Qui-Gon was the one that was injured.”

Mace.

“He is,” Obi-Wan says quietly as Mace guides him to a chair.

“Well you sure did a great job of neglecting yourself to the point that none of us believe he’s the only one.”

Obi-Wan does not want to do this right now. He wants to be with his Padawan.

“Obi-Wan, look at me.”

He does, and he sees several other Council members clustered behind Mace. They are all staring at him with varying degrees of surprise and sympathy.

“We’ll do this later. The Healers need to make sure you’re all right and you need to rest. When the Healers clear you, then we will take your statement,” Mace explains. “Do you understand?”

Obi-Wan nods slowly. Mace helps him back to his feet and walks him into an examination room where a togruta healer is waiting for him. She takes over and Mace squeezes his shoulder before he departs.

When they finally peel off all his layers, Obi-Wan realizes how much of Qui-Gon’s blood soaked into his clothes. Everything save for his boots is ruined. He must have looked like a walking massacre coming into the Temple. The thought makes his entire body ache.

“Is he going to be okay?” He asks, his voice soft and distant.

“Yes, I believe he will be just fine. You did a good job dressing his wounds to get him back here.”

The healer gives him a thorough once-over, her face impassive and betraying nothing. He watches the door for any sign of a healer come to tell him about Qui-Gon

“Master Kenobi.” He doesn’t answer right away so she tries again. “Master Kenobi.”

He looks at her dazedly.

“Master, you are in shock. I believe it is a combination of physical and mental shock from the trauma of your mission and your Padawan’s injury. I’m going to help you clean up and put on some clean clothes, and then you’re going to rest. Does that sound all right?”

Obi-Wan barely notices the movement of his head as he nods. The following minutes pass in a blur but he registers a wet cloth on his skin and the soft fabric of healers’ tunics and pants. He ends up in a different room with a soft bed and dim lights and he does not argue when he gets an intravenous line of fluids.

“Master Kenobi, I’m going to put you into a healing trance. You will emerge from it on your own as your body heals and you will feel much better afterwards.”

Ice seems to replace all the blood in his veins. “But—”

“If there is any change in Qui-Gon’s condition, I will pull you out of the trance myself. Until then, you are no use to him in this state. Once you are healthy, then you will be able to care for him the way you want.”

Obi-Wan nods, and the healer smiles warmly. He sinks graciously into the trance she puts him under because he knows he is absolutely useless otherwise. He had not realized how badly he had handled the stress until it was too late.


	2. Two

Obi-Wan is three days out of his healing trance and Qui-Gon has still not woken up. He was removed from the bacta tank shortly after Obi-Wan woke, but his condition remains the same. He is stable, but unconscious. The healers have hinted at allowing Obi-Wan to use their training bond to coax him out, but only as a last resort.

He is still wearing the soft, Halls-issued outfit of dark blue tunic and pants, but now he has added his spare robe over top. Mace had brought it to him at his tentative request.

Mace has also given him a gentle, verbal flogging. “There is nothing wrong with relying on your friends, Obi-Wan. It does not make you any less of a Jedi. Do not hesitate to ask for anything. I will be happy to help you; I know how hard this is to handle.”

The healers were prepared for everything when he woke from his trance. They had already moved a small cot into Qui-Gon’s room for him to sleep on because they knew he would refuse to return to their quarters. And it, along with a chair, were positioned on the right side of Qui-Gon’s bed where the Healers rarely needed access. His intravenous line and other monitors reside on the left side of the bed.

Healer Gradrrl is Qui-Gon’s primary healer for the remainder of his recovery. He has taken to also checking on Obi-Wan, asking when he’d last eaten or slept or walked around. He brings tea like clockwork and even sits with him to drink it, asking about Qui-Gon and his apprenticeship. When he comes to check on them during the night, he often coaxes Obi-Wan out of the hard chair he had fallen asleep in and onto his cot. Obi-Wan mentions once that Gradrrl doesn’t have time to worry after him and should focus on his other patients, and had received an angry growl in response.

_“As long as he is my patient, I will look after you as well.”_

Obi-Wan is touched, and does not complain again.

He is curled up in the chair at Qui-Gon’s bedside, dozing fitfully with his head drooping onto his shoulder, when he hears a pained whimper. In an instant, Obi-Wan is on his feet. Qui-Gon wakes slowly, obviously in pain by the deep lines carved into his young face. Obi-Wan presses the button on the wall to call a healer before gently stroking his Padawan’s hair.

“Qui-Gon,” he calls softly, keeping his voice pitched low and unobtrusive.

He knows how out of balance your senses can be after a traumatic injury and days in a bacta tank. He wants nothing less than to cause him any more discomfort.

He feels a weak brush against the training bond and smiles, grasping it.

_Master?_

“I’m right here, Padawan. You’re safe now.”

_Hurts._

His chest tightens. “I know it does. Healer Gradrrl is on his way and he will help you.”

Qui-Gon struggles to stay awake, torn between incredible pain forcing his consciousness and just succumbing again to escape. Obi-Wan can feel over their bond that he is soothed by his voice and mere presence. When Qui-Gon finally forces his eyes open, Obi-Wan smiles at him, letting all of his love for the boy show through, and their bond goes warm between them.

Gradrrl steps into the room, obviously winded and on alert but forcing his outward appearance to betray nothing.

_“Good evening, Qui-Gon. How are you feeling?”_

After Qui-Gon hesitates, forehead creasing in attempt to make sense of the noise, Obi-Wan translates for him over their bond.

“Awful,” is his whispered answer.

_“That is to be expected. We will take care of you.”_

Qui-Gon makes a soft noise of assent. He turns back to Obi-Wan and looks up at him, dark eyes dull and tired. Obi-Wan buries his fear and pulls the chair up closer to Qui-Gon’s head. Before he sits, he gently cups Qui-Gon’s strong jaw and smiles at him.

“Hello there, little one.”

Qui-Gon smiles fleetingly. “Not little.”

Obi-Wan’s smile turns into a grin and he sits down in the chair.

“Nonsense. You’ll always be that little boy I met in the crèche that crawled into my lap and promptly fell asleep,” he teases, and Qui-Gon’s answering smile is sweet.

“Comfortable,” he mutters.

Obi-Wan laughs and is momentarily taken aback by the shock of pure affection that slips across their bond from Qui-Gon. He does not mention it. The boy is drugged to the gills and hurting; he may not even realize he did it.

“And then that same little boy has been falling asleep in my lap for the last eight years,” Obi-Wan says.

Qui-Gon frowns at him. “Only on transports.”

They both smile at each other and Obi-Wan can tell how exhausted his Padawan is just from speaking. Healer Gradrrl had left the room and now he reappears, carrying a syringe. He slides the needle into the catheter on Qui-Gon’s intravenous line, depresses the plunger slowly.

A moment later a soft, sighed, “Oh.”

They look at Qui-Gon. The lines in his face have smoothed over and only exhaustion remains. Their bond relaxes as if it had been squeezed tight by the pain.

_“You should sleep as much as you can. It will help your body heal. In the morning, we will check your wound.”_

He nods slowly. “Thank you.”

_“You’re welcome, Qui-Gon. Don’t hesitate to call for me if you need anything._ ”

As soon as Healer Gradrrl leaves the room, Qui-Gon slips his hand out from under the blanket, reaching for Obi-Wan. He catches his hand lightly between his own, holding it close.

“Do you need something?” He asks.

Qui-Gon shakes his head. “Thank you.”

“There’s no need to thank me. I would do it again without hesitation,” he says, gently squeezing the strong hand in his.

Qui-Gon gives him an indescribable look—something close to fondness and adoration but tinged heavily with desire.

He refrains from saying anything because in the next two breaths his Padawan loses his grip on consciousness and slips under easily.


	3. Three

The next morning dawns with grey skies and fat raindrops hitting the window in the room. Obi-Wan is standing at Qui-Gon’s head, one hand on his shoulder, as Healer Gradrrl checks the blaster wound.

When they arrived, the healers found shrapnel from the bullet lodged in Qui-Gon’s abdomen and spent hours pulling it out before they could even put him in the bacta tank. But once he was in, the bacta had done an excellent job repairing the internal damage. The final layers of muscle and tissue are being left to heal on their own, and bacta dressings will ensure there is very little scarring.

Qui-Gon gasps when Gradrrl presses on the injury and the way his vision swims is shared over their bond.

“Enough,” Obi-Wan snaps, a little too harshly.

Gradrrl looks startled, but nods once and turns away to retrieve new dressings for the wound.

A bright, protective flame licks at his insides at the sight of the pale, ashen skin on his Padawan. He presses the backs of his fingers to his cheek and Qui-Gon leans into his touch, blinking slowly. Obi-Wan siphons away some of his pain, releasing it into the Force for him. He is rewarded with a tiny smile and a gentle nudge over their bond.

After Gradrrl dresses the wound again, Qui-Gon grasps his hand and squeezes it.

“Thank you.”

The healer grins at him and covers his hand with his other one. _“No need to thank me. But you_ can _thank me by getting better. It will at least get your Master off my back.”_

Qui-Gon laughs softly, the sound drenched in pained exhaustion. “I’ll do my best.”

Healer Gradrrl barks out a laugh and tugs lightly on Qui-Gon’s Padawan braid. He administers a small dose of pain relief to Qui-Gon’s intravenous line and slowly raises the head of his bed so he can sit up comfortably. Once he has left the room, Qui-Gon lets out a deep breath. His voice is clearer and less strained as the pain medication works through his system.

“Master, can I tell you something?”

Obi-Wan covers his surprise easily. He gathers his robe as he sits down in the chair beside the bed, well within arms-reach of his Padawan.

“Of course,” he says. Just to be safe, he adds, “You may speak freely.”

A quiet moment of simply breathing passes, and Obi-Wan watches Qui-Gon gather himself. When he looks up, his dark eyes are fearful but brave.

“I love you,” he states, matter-of-factly. “I’ve felt like this for almost three years, but I know everyone around will try to blame it on hormones or hero-worship. I understand if you don’t feel the same, and I won’t be upset.”

He pauses a moment, catching his breath. Obi-Wan can hardly fathom the words that he is hearing.

“When I was injured, I was terrified that I might never have the chance to tell you that I care deeply about you. I don’t know how to describe my feelings for you, but if you are uncomfortable, then I’m willing to simply remain as we are. I’m forever grateful for what you’ve taught me and have yet to teach me, and I hope I haven’t ruined everything. Even if I’m only your friend after I’m Knighted, it will be enough.”

Obi-Wan feels tears threaten in the back of his throat, but he swallows them back. He stays collected enough to take Qui-Gon’s hand, folding his own around it almost protectively. Qui-Gon grips back tightly.

“Qui-Gon.” He takes in the beautiful young man in front of him. “From the moment I laid eyes on you, I was in love. At first, it was how a father might love a son, or something brotherly. As you grew, I saw the man underneath the child and realized our relationship was going to change. Since you’ve reached this age, closing in on your maturity, I’ve had a glimpse of how loving you as an equal might feel.

“I had a vision several months ago of sometime in the future. You were a Knight and had just returned from a mission. I met you at the dock and when you saw me, the look on your face took my breath away. You looked at me like I hung the moon and the stars. When you reached me, you swept me up—because you were infuriatingly tall at that point—and hugged me and it was the sweetest sensation I have ever felt.

“I spoke to Master Yoda a few weeks after the vision. I was concerned because I did not want to become distracted by my vision and worry you. He advised me to stay focused on the present and that my answers would come in time. He explained to me that I was allowed to explore a non-sexual relationship with you only if you initiated it, but not otherwise. Once you are of age, we are welcome to proceed however we see fit.

“This decision is yours alone, Qui-Gon. I will not love you any less—only differently—if you choose not to seek a deeper relationship. If you do decide this is the path you wish to take, we will need to lay down explicit boundaries and keep open communication. You are the most important person in my life and I would be honored if you were to remain that way for as long as you wish.”

Qui-Gon sniffles and pushes tears off his cheeks, but his Force signature is singing with joy. His dark eyes shine with tears and longing when he looks up at Obi-Wan.

“I want to stay with you—always,” he says, and they are the most beautiful words Obi-Wan has ever heard.

He stands and makes to kiss Qui-Gon on the forehead, but he stops himself. Looking down at the young man staring up at him with those striking blue eyes, he lets himself fall.

“May I?”

Qui-Gon’s entire demeanor changes in an instant. The tension he had carried in his shoulders bleeds away and his breath catches softly at Obi-Wan’s request. He nods silently, and Obi-Wan sees his eyes close as he presses his lips against smooth skin. Their bond flares open wide and he feels just how deeply Qui-Gon relishes the chaste contact. When Obi-Wan cups his face, stroking his thumbs across his cheeks, Qui-Gon lets out a quiet, content puff of breath. Obi-Wan smiles and leaves another kiss to the left of his previous one, delighting in the thrill of innocent pleasure that shoots through Qui-Gon at the touch.

A handful of seconds pass, before Qui-Gon looks up at him and brings one hand up to wrap long fingers around Obi-Wan’s wrist, making it look exceptionally delicate.

“Master, I know this isn’t a good time, but I would really like something to drink,” he says, and his voice is almost ashamed.

“You’re letting me debauch you while you sit there suffering,” Obi-Wan cries teasingly, and Qui-Gon laughs.

It is a gorgeous, rich sound but it is colored with pain and exhaustion. Obi-Wan chucks him lightly under the chin before rounding the foot of the bed.

“I’ll be right back.”

As he leaves the room, he catches Qui-Gon ducking his head and smiling to himself, fingers curled around his Padawan braid. Obi-Wan has never before felt the kind of affection that unfurls in his chest now. It is a lovely, unique thing and he hides his grin behind his hand as he goes to find his Padawan some water.

Qui-Gon’s hand shakes when he takes the cup Obi-Wan offers and it visibly frustrates him. He glowers at it and tenses his arm to try and stop the motion. He tries steadying it with his other hand and receives a slight decrease in movement for his efforts.

He still ends up with water down the front of his shirt.

The heartbroken look he gives Obi-Wan makes him struggle between laughing and hugging the boy. He concedes by kissing the top of his head, smoothing his matted hair.

“Would you like anything from our quarters? Your datapad maybe?”

He nods. “That would be nice.”

“Okay, I’ll get it for you, and I will also water your plants,” Obi-Wan says.

Qui-Gon’s eyes widen. “I completely forgot about them. Thank you.”

Obi-Wan smiles at him. Before he can say anything else, someone knocks on the door. He glances at Qui-Gon—a silent question—and gets a nod.

“Come in,” he calls, and the door opens.

Qui-Gon’s face lights up and his smile makes Obi-Wan’s chest explode with warmth.

Tahl is standing in the doorway. She and Qui-Gon have been friends since before Qui-Gon became Obi-Wan’s Padawan, and they are essentially a package deal—much like Obi-Wan and his friend Bant had been.

“Tahl can keep you company while I’m gone,” he says, inviting Tahl into the room. “Hopefully she can keep you out of trouble.”

Qui-Gon frowns at him, and Tahl laughs.

“Master Obi-Wan, no one can keep him out of trouble,” she deadpans.

Obi-Wan laughs. “Too right. I trust you will do your very best.”

He pulls the door behind him and hears a snatch of their conversation before it closes.

“Did you tell him? What did he say?”

He knows Qui-Gon will not tell the entire Temple of their new relationship, and he would be more concerned if he _did not_ tell Tahl.


	4. Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bold italics is Qui-Gon speaking across their bond  
> italics is Obi-Wan

“—ster.”

He stirs slightly.

“Master.” **_Please, wake up._**

The voice across their bond is scared, hurting, and Obi-Wan is on his feet in an instant. He throws on the light, bathing the room in bright florescence. The sight that greets him nearly sends him to his knees. Blood has soaked through Qui-Gon’s dressings, his tunic, and the bedding sometime during the night.

“ _Sith_ ,” he curses, slamming the button on the wall.

Gradrrl appears immediately, but when he sees what he is dealing with, he calls down the hall for more healers. He touches Qui-Gon’s shoulder in a comforting gesture before pulling away the sheets. He yanks everything to untuck it from the bed and throws them toward the hazardous material bin. He cuts through Qui-Gon’s tunic at the shoulders and down the front so it falls away from his torso.

His entire lower abdomen is covered in blood. It shines sickly in the light, a stark contrast to the pale skin of Qui-Gon’s stomach. Obi-Wan sees Qui-Gon glance down and then squeeze his eyes shut, turning away. He rests a hand on his head, stroking his hair.

 _“Put him under, Obi-Wan. We can’t give him any more medication yet,”_ Gradrrl howls at him.

He looks down at Qui-Gon, who looks so pale and fragile against the white sheets stained with blood. There are dark smudges under his eyes from agonized sleep. He looks up at Obi-Wan, terrified.

“You’re going to be fine. I promise.”

He hesitates for a second before: _I love you._

A little of the fear leaves him. **_I love you too._**

Obi-Wan rests his hand on Qui-Gon’s forehead. “Sleep.”

Qui-Gon’s eyes close and his entire body goes slack. Obi-Wan steps back and allows the healers to do their work. He watches for as long as he can, a hand pressed over his mouth. His wound reopened during the night and they are struggling to stop the blood flow. Obi-Wan silences a sob as dark blood oozes between fingers as the healers press bandages to the wound. He eventually turns away, instead focusing on Qui-Gon’s face. He brushes his knuckles along his jaw, and shifts his long Padawan braid up near his shoulder to keep it away from the mess.

Once they manage to stem the flow to a manageable level, they slather bacta over the wound and press a thick bandage over it, wrapping his entire lower abdomen in a long strip of gauze. A healer gets another sheet and tucks it into the foot of the bed, covering Qui-Gon up to his chest. Obi-Wan fiddles with it, smoothing it out, and takes the blanket offered to him with a smile. He spreads the blanket out and sends a soft wash of affection over their bond.

Healer Gradrrl comes to his side. _“He lost a little too much blood, but that is easily remedied with a transfusion. We think he may have shifted too vigorously during the night and reopened his wound. I will come check on him in the morning. Try to get some more sleep.”_

Obi-Wan nods, smiling tiredly at the healer. After all the healers have gone, he turns down the light and lays on his cot. He tries to sleep, but his gaze is constantly drawn back to his Padawan. Despite being over two meters tall, he looks so small and young laying in that bed, wrapped in bandages. Wounds to the abdomen are always the hardest to heal because every movement utilizes that area. Obi-Wan just has to keep faith that Qui-Gon will heal with time.

—x—

Qui-Gon teasingly uses his injury to ply Obi-Wan for more affection, but Obi-Wan is more than willing to give him whatever he asks. When he looks up at him with big, dark eyes, Obi-Wan just smirks at him and presses a kiss to his forehead.

The first time Qui-Gon draws him close and kisses him on the cheek, the boy’s cheeks stay flushed for minutes afterward. Each time he steals a glance at Obi-Wan, he blushes again. Until Obi-Wan leans over and kisses the red skin softly. They grin at each other.

Obi-Wan never truly experienced a teenage romance, but he thinks this is what it must feel like.

He loves it.

When Qui-Gon can move without the threat of blacking out from pain, he scoots over to one side and pleads with Obi-Wan to sit on the bed with him. Obi-Wan concedes, letting his Padawan lean back against his chest. They watch a holofilm on one of their datapads, but Qui-Gon falls asleep halfway through. Obi-Wan pays more attention to the soft sound of his breathing than the rest of the film. He finally abandons it, choosing instead to listen to Qui-Gon sleep. His heart climbs into his throat when Qui-Gon sighs quietly and nuzzles closer to Obi-Wan’s throat.

Tahl visits often, sitting on the foot of Qui-Gon’s bed and telling him about the recent Temple gossip. She is not intimidated by Obi-Wan as most Initiates are so she is not afraid to congratulate him and Qui-Gon on their relationship.

Qui-Gon turns a bright shade of scarlet, burying his face in his hands.

“ _Force,_ Tahl.”

She laughs and nudges him with her foot. “Hey, I’m proud of you. You went straight to the top; didn’t even scope out the Knights.”

“ _Tahl!_ ”

Obi-Wan cannot help the laugh that escapes. “I will admit it’s impressive.”

“ _Master_.” He sounds mortified.

“We may give him an aneurysm soon,” Obi-Wan teases, and Tahl grins.

Qui-Gon mumbles into his hands, “I can’t believe I have two of you now.”

Obi-Wan grins and reaches over to touch his elbow. “You have two people who adore you. That’s not so bad, is it?”

Qui-Gon’s cheeks settle on a soft pink color when he drops his hands. Tahl is smiling at him, her hand resting on his leg.

“No, I suppose not.”


	5. Five

Their trip back to their quarters is slow. Tahl comes to help and she wraps a careful arm around Qui-Gon’s waist to support him. She is tall, soon she will be as tall as Qui-Gon, and it is easier for her to hold him up. Obi-Wan walks ahead of them, hitting the button for the turbolift and then opening their door. Tahl helps Qui-Gon sink down onto their soft, old couch. He is pale and shaking, face dewy with sweat.

Obi-Wan wets a cloth and presses it to his face. “You made it. Just relax.”

Qui-Gon watches him with eyes nearly swallowed up by pupil. He trembles and reaches for Obi-Wan across their bond. Obi-Wan reaches back, soothing him with soft words and sensations until he does not look so ill. Tahl brings a glass of water from the kitchen and sets it on the low table. She sits beside Qui-Gon on the couch and covers one of his hands with her own.

“Are you going to be sick?” Obi-Wan asks.

“No, I don’t think so,” Qui-Gon breathes. “I didn’t expect it to be so hard.”

Obi-Wan makes a sympathetic face. “I know. It will get easier, I promise.”

Qui-Gon just nods, trying to steady his breathing, and wraps his fingers around Obi-Wan’s wrist.

He smiles and ducks to kiss his knuckles. “Would you like to move to your bed? Or stay on the couch?”

“Stay here. I’m tired of sitting in a bed,” he teases.

“I don’t blame you,” Obi-Wan replies with a smile.

Tahl hands him the glass of water, and his hands do not shake like they did before. He takes shallow sips of the water to avoid upsetting his stomach. When he is finished, Tahl takes the glass and sets it back on the table. She strokes his hair lightly and then brushes her fingers along the scattering of stubble on his cheek.

“Micah will be so upset that you’re able to grow a beard before him,” she says, and Qui-Gon smiles.

“Good. He can stand to be taken down a peg.”

“Revenge is not the Jedi way, Padawan,” Obi-Wan admonishes him teasingly.

Qui-Gon grins at him, their bond filled with light-hearted humor.

“It is when Micah is involved,” he shoots back.

Obi-Wan chucks him lightly under the chin as he stands.

“Watch it, you.”

He wipes at the sweat on Qui-Gon’s forehead before going back to the ‘fresher to dampen the cloth again with cool water.

When he returns, Tahl is leaning in to kiss Qui-Gon on the cheek. “I have to go now. My master wants to practice some new sparring techniques. I’ll try to come by and see you tomorrow.”

Qui-Gon smiles tiredly. “That’s fine. I’ll probably just fall asleep the second you leave. Bring me something sweet from the dining hall when you come.”

“I’ll see what I can do.” Tahl grins. “See you tomorrow. Goodbye, Master Obi-Wan.”

“Goodbye, Tahl. Thank you for your help,” he says, and she bows shallowly in acknowledgement.

“It was my pleasure. I’ll have to get used to dragging this one around eventually,” she teases.

“Hey,” Qui-Gon protests, but it’s halfhearted.

Obi-Wan laughs. “Have a good evening.”

“You as well. Later, Qui.” Tahl waves as she leaves.

“Bye, Tahl,” he calls after her.

Once she is gone, Qui-Gon seems to finally give in to his exhaustion. He closes his eyes and leans his head back against the sofa.

“You know you don’t have to lie to her,” Obi-Wan says. “She will not hold this against you.”

He continues stroking the wet cloth over Qui-Gon’s skin.

“I know. Old habits.” His voice is soft, breathless.

Obi-Wan desperately wants him to rest. He has an idea.

“Would you like to stay in my bed? You will have more room that way,” he suggests.

Qui-Gon opens his eyes to look at him. His pupils are still wide with pain.

“Where will you sleep?”

“I can sleep on the couch, or I can sleep with you, if it doesn’t cause you too much discomfort,” he says.

“I’d rather you sleep with me in case something happens,” Qui-Gon replies, and they both know what he is thinking.

Obi-Wan nods. “Then that is where I will sleep. Let’s get you comfortable so you can rest.”

Getting up from the couch is more difficult than expected. They eventually find a technique that works—Qui-Gon scoots to the edge of the cushions and Obi-Wan wraps his arms around his waist to support him as he slowly stands. A long, painful minute passes before he is upright and steady on his feet. Each step is a huge effort, but he makes it into Obi-Wan’s bedroom with no incidents. Obi-Wan leaves him standing beside the bed while he retrieves the clothes he prefers to sleep in, and then they begin the arduous task of peeling away fabric.

By the time Qui-Gon is dressed in his sleep pants and a short-sleeved cotton undershirt, he is shaking and breathing heavily. Obi-Wan helps him sit down on the bed and crouches at his feet.

“What do you need?” He asks.

Qui-Gon rests a trembling hand on Obi-Wan’s cheek. Through their bond, Obi-Wan feels his delight when he leans into the touch—delight at his affection being reciprocated. Obi-Wan cannot wait for their relationship to continue to grow.

“Tea?” He requests it as if Obi-Wan would deny him.

“Of course. Any one in particular?” Obi-Wan takes his hand from his cheek and kisses his palm softly.

His Padawan’s breath hitches slightly. “Mint.”

Obi-Wan stands and helps Qui-Gon situate himself more comfortably in the bed. As he is standing in the kitchen waiting for the tea to steep, Obi-Wan realizes that it has been days since they last shielded either end of their bond. They have become accustomed to the emotions and stray thoughts that leak over and compensated smoothly. With very little energy or even effort, he can sense that Qui-Gon is tired, hurting, and beginning to miss his presence. A desire for physical affection colors his thoughts, and Obi-Wan wonders if it is exacerbated by his injury.

**_A bit_** , comes the startling reply.

_I apologize. I shouldn’t have pried._ Obi-Wan blushes at having been caught, going about fixing the tea now that it has finished.

**_It’s alright. I would have my shields up if I didn’t want you looking._ **

He hates it when his Padawan is right.

Qui-Gon is quiet as he accepts his tea and while Obi-Wan changes into his own sleep pants and shirt. Obi-Wan settles on the bed beside him, sipping his own tea.

“I left all my shields down so you would know I was telling the truth, and I was hoping you would do the same so I could feel what you felt for me,” Qui-Gon says softly, almost ashamedly.

“Are you disappointed?” Obi-Wan asks.

“No, the complete opposite. I needed to tell you because I felt I was deceiving you.”

Obi-Wan shakes his head. “You weren’t deceiving me. You simply kept yourself open to make your point without using words, and hoped I would do the same—which I have. But you didn’t force me. It was really quite effective actually. I’ve grown to enjoy feeling just how happy you are when I kiss you or touch you. I never knew you were so eager for affection.”

He thinks for a moment.

“Did I withhold it from you too often as a child?”

Qui-Gon laughs softly, the sound pained. “No, Master. You gave me more than enough. Sometimes I think other masters wanted to tell you off for how kindly you treated me.”

Obi-Wan snorts. “Oh, I assure you, they did. I can’t count the number of lectures I’ve received on the aspect of attachment leading to the Dark Side. It’s all a bunch of bantha fodder. I don’t, for one second, believe that hugging you and praising you will lead to that. Pride is a necessary piece of life, but it must be kept in check. I do not sense any trace of arrogance or envy in you so I doubt letting you sleep in my bed or kissing you on the forehead is going to turn you into a Sith Lord. Stars, they act as if I’ve been reading you bedtime stories about Darth Plagueis since you were in the crèche.”

Qui-Gon is nearly in tears by the end of his rant, grasping his stomach as he hiccups through his giggles. Obi-Wan smiles into his teacup.

“I feel bad for other Padawans. Is compassion not a trait of the Jedi?” Qui-Gon asks, wiping his eyes.

“It is,” Obi-Wan says, “but some Jedi feel that it is considered a weakness to show it. Others believe that it should only be given to those in need of our help and not our own. It’s a very messy subject, but not one you should worry over. Their opinions have no hold on our relationship.”

Qui-Gon drinks his tea. His thoughts are not shared over their bond unless he deliberately (or accidentally) sends them, but the noise they create on the other side is somewhat soothing. It tells Obi-Wan that he is healing.

“Master, how old were you when you had sex for the first time?”

He almost spits his tea out but recovers quickly. Qui-Gon smirks at him, but it is without malice. He is genuinely curious.

“I was about your age. It was with my friend Garen. He and I had always stood on the precipice of friends and lovers. He was—and still is—very handsome. I always felt that it was nice to have that experience with a friend since I hadn’t had any kind of relationships at the time.”

Qui-Gon nods thoughtfully, staring down into his tea. He doesn’t look up when he speaks again.

“I haven’t done anything with anyone,” he says softly. “I’m concerned because I’ve never felt the desire everyone talks about. I don’t look at someone and think _I want to have sex with them_. It’s always _I want to hold them while they sleep_. I can admire someone who is beautiful, but I don’t feel the need to take them to bed. I just want the innocent affection, but eventually everyone wants that to change into something more. But I don’t think I want more.”

He looks up at Obi-Wan and his features are stricken. He is scared. Obi-Wan knows he has more to say so he remains silent.

“I don’t want our relationship to continue only to find out this will drive you away. I can handle being taunted and isolated because of this part of me, but I don’t think I can bear seeing you look at me with disgust. You mean too much to me. I just need to know—”

The tears that well up in his dark eyes finally fall and Obi-Wan suddenly leaps into action. He takes Qui-Gon’s teacup and sets it on the bedside table with his own. He moves closer to his Padawan, taking his trembling hand between both of his own.

“Qui-Gon, I would never turn you away because you do not desire sex. You are so much more important to me than that. I would rather have you, happy and content, sleeping beside me every night than all the sex in the world. Anyone who chooses otherwise is an absolute nerfherder and doesn’t deserve you.” He gently lifts Qui-Gon’s face, stroking his cheek with his thumb. “You have been the light of my life for eight years, and if I could have taken you at nine, I would have. I will cherish every year you give me because your presence makes each and every day infinitely more enjoyable. You are my heart and my life, Qui-Gon, and I will never leave your side for anything.”

His Padawan manages to curl his long legs up enough to fit into Obi-Wan’s lap and Obi-Wan cradles him close to his chest, rubbing his back.

“I’m so sorry this has been hanging so heavily on your mind, little one. You don’t have to worry anymore. All you need to be concerned about is healing.”

A pause as Qui-Gon sniffles.

“So you can drag me on some crazy mission to that awful desert planet again,” Qui-Gon grouses, his voice thick with tears, and Obi-Wan laughs.

“Yes, precisely for that reason. Though I don’t know why you’re complaining about that mission; you didn’t get second degree sunburn.”

Now Qui-Gon laughs, and he tucks his head against Obi-Wan’s shoulder.

“Master?”

Obi-Wan kisses his hairline. “Yes, Padawan?”

“I love you.”

He swears his heart skips several beats, but then he’s grinning into Qui-Gon’s soft, wavy hair. He leaves another kiss.

“I love you too.”

That night is particularly restless. Qui-Gon prefers to sleep on his stomach, but his wound prevents that. Eventually Obi-Wan comms the quartermaster for a longer pillow—and has to trek down to the office to retrieve it or face another long-winded rant—but when he snugs it up against Qui-Gon’s torso and the boy can drape himself over it with no pain, the trouble is worth it. Obi-Wan can finally relax when he sees how comfortable his Padawan is with his leg and arm tossed over the pillow like a gangly octopus. He lays on the other side of the pillow and strokes Qui-Gon’s hair until he is finally asleep.

Their days for the next few weeks are wide open to accommodate check-ups for both of them and recovery and rehabilitation. Obi-Wan knows Qui-Gon will inevitably bury himself in the Archives during this time and he will be forced to search the boy out—possibly digging him out from under various holobooks and datapads. It never bothers him because that night he will inevitably get a lesson on something obscure and it always makes Qui-Gon light up to be the one teaching. He will make an incredible Master to a very lucky child.


	6. Six

“Easy, easy,” Obi-Wan croons, a hand covering Qui-Gon’s over his injury.

Rising from a prone position is proving more difficult than either had expected. Qui-Gon moans softly at the pull of his muscles and sways unsteadily into Obi-Wan’s arms.

“I’ve got you, it’s all right,” he soothes, letting him get his bearings now that he is finally upright.

“It hurts,” Qui-Gon whimpers, fisting the shoulder of Obi-Wan’s tunic in his hand.

“I know, love, I’m so sorry. I’ll see what the healers can give you.” He smoothes his hand along his back. “You meditated this morning, right? Did it help at all?”

“A little,” comes the breathless reply. Then, “I need to sit down.”

Obi-Wan holds him steady as he sits on the edge of the bed. His face is colorless save for the bright scarlet flush of his cheeks and his skin shines with sweat. Dark circles have settled under his eyes. He looks sick.

“Can I touch—” he brushes his fingers over Qui-Gon’s hand. “I won’t press down.”

Qui-Gon nods and moves his hand. Obi-Wan settles his own over the thick bandage, feeling how Qui-Gon’s breathing hitches with pain. He reaches out with the Force and what he finds makes it feel as if all the oxygen has been sucked out of the room.

“Stay right here,” he says, darting out into the common room.

He comms the healers, telling Gradrrl to come to their room _now._ He goes back to kneel in front of Qui-Gon, stroking his braid like he has since it was a tiny thing that stuck out comically from behind his ear. Qui-Gon’s breathing is labored, but he touches Obi-Wan’s arm.

“You—called me ‘love’,” he says, quiet and pained but also thrilled.

Obi-Wan laughs breathlessly. “Yes, I did.”

He lays his hand against Obi-Wan’s cheek. “I like that.”

“I’ll remember.” Obi-Wan leans into his touch.

When the door chimes, Obi-Wan simply opens it with a thought and projects to the healers where they are. Two sets of footsteps halt at the doorway. Obi-Wan knows they see what he sees. He stands up, but rests his hand on Qui-Gon’s shoulder.

“I think the bullet was poisoned,” he says, leaving no room for pleasantries.

The following minutes are a flurry of action. They peel off Qui-Gon’s shirt before they get him resting comfortably on the bed. Healer Ma’ali reaches out to remove the bandage.

“Wait,” Obi-Wan says. “Feel with the Force. Don’t look—feel.”

Two hands settle on Qui-Gon’s abdomen and then two sets of wide eyes stare back at him.

Gradrrl exclaims, _“That was not evident when he was in the Halls. I swear to you.”_

Obi-Wan nods. “I know. I’m not blaming anyone. First of all, it was a bullet and not a blaster. Those are rare enough. But for it to have been poisoned—”

He covers his eyes with his hand and pinches the bridge of his nose.

He does not believe attachment leads to the Dark Side, but it sure does lead to a lot of overwhelming emotions.

A gentle tug on his sleep pants pulls his attention back to where it rightfully belongs. He catches Qui-Gon’s hand in his own and bends to kiss it.

“Am I—?” His breath catches and tears well up in his eyes.

“No, Padawan. No. You are not going to die. I promise you,” he soothes, but doubt settles heavily in his stomach.

The healers call down to the Halls of Healing for another healer to bring the portable blood analyzer up to their quarters. Healer Gradrrl inspects Qui-Gon’s wound while they wait. He mentions that the wound has stopped bleeding but it is not healing. Any sort of trauma or jostling could cause it start bleeding again so he cautions Qui-Gon to move around as little as possible until it is fully healed.

Healer Luna finally arrives with the blood analyzer and she is filled in by the other two. Her brown eyes are wide when she feels the wound with the Force. All three of them move quickly. Luna unpacks the analyzer while Ma’ali and Gradrrl pull out supplies. They give Qui-Gon an injection of pain medication, but like all others it takes a while to work.

Obi-Wan kneels beside the bed and keeps Qui-Gon’s attention away from the healers and their work. He does not complain when Qui-Gon squeezes his hand so hard he fears for some of his bones because the pain his Padawan is feeling is far worse. Having a swab inside a wound is never a pleasant sensation and Obi-Wan would not blame him for screaming himself hoarse, but Qui-Gon suffers with only a miserable whimper. Obi-Wan wipes away tears as they surface and croons sweetly over their bond. Out loud, he comforts him as any Master would their Padawan. After the pain medication finally kicks in, the lines in his face ease and he finally relaxes.

As they wait for the blood analyzer to spit out its decision, Obi-Wan makes tea for everyone and wets a cloth to rest on Qui-Gon’s forehead. The pain medication makes him drowsy, and he naps lightly. Obi-Wan is relieved he can finally rest. The healers clean the wound and bandage it again with another thick pad. Qui-Gon wakes after half an hour, smiling over at Obi-Wan. He smiles back, stroking his arm lightly.

Obi-Wan is leaning over Qui-Gon, smoothing his hair back with the cool cloth, when Luna pipes up from her place beside the analyzer.

“He’s going to be fine. The poison is in the database.”

The weight of an entire planet lifts from his chest. Obi-Wan stoops and presses his lips to Qui-Gon’s forehead, cradling his cheek in his hand. He leaves several firm kisses before he leans back, but only enough to stroke his Padawan’s braid and smile at him.

Qui-Gon’s smile is watery and relieved and beautiful. Obi-Wan wipes his tears away, pressing their foreheads together.

_I love you. I love you more than all the stars in the sky._

He does not get a response in words, but in feelings and sensations. It is more than enough. His Padawan is exhausted and sick, and Obi-Wan feels blessed to receive what he does.

“We can have the antidote made up as soon as possible, and once this junk is out of his system, he should heal up in no time,” Healer Ma’ali says, and his green eyes are bright with confidence.

“There are a few side effects of the withdrawal, but they may or may not occur. Every patient is different,” Luna explains. “The most likely are chills and fever, and he may vomit, which would be painful due to his injury. He could have vivid dreams, but that is rare, and the pain medication we’re going to put him on will help him sleep so they shouldn’t be too much of a problem.”

“Should he return to the Halls?” Obi-Wan asks.

Gradrrl shakes his head. _“He will be fine up here, and more comfortable. Once the antidote is finished, I will bring it to you. For now, he needs to rest.”_

Qui-Gon is already dozing again, looking far more peaceful than he has in weeks. Obi-Wan and the healers move out into the common room to allow him to sleep.

“I assume that this poison has been keeping the wound from healing properly,” Obi-Wan says, and all three healers nod.

“For someone not Force-sensitive, it would take a lot longer for them to realize and by that time it would be too late. You caught it quickly and he will have no long-term effects from it,” Ma’ali says.

 _“Let us know if any of the side effects are causing more harm. Hopefully he won’t experience any of them.”_ Gradrrl smiles comfortingly.

“I will keep you updated. Thank you for coming so quickly. I truly appreciate everything you’ve done for us,” he says, his voice suddenly giving out.

Gradrrl pulls him into a hug, purring low in his chest. Obi-Wan has a bad habit of never realizing he needs help until it is almost unbearable.

 _“You need to rest as well. You’re still not cleared yet. Go watch over your Padawan, but don’t neglect yourself along the way,”_ Gradrrl chastises him, and Obi-Wan smiles gratefully.

“Thank you.” He shakes Ma’ali and Luna’s hands before they leave.

Gradrrl stays behind.

_“Comm me if anything changes or you need help. The rest of the healers know I’m still assigned to him and I’m always available to come up at your request.”_

“I will, I promise,” Obi-Wan says. “I’m thankful he has someone like you to take such great care of him.”

Gradrrl smiles. _“My master was his clan’s healer while he was in the crèche and I often helped him with the younglings. Qui-Gon always seemed to like me the best.”_

Obi-Wan blinks. “I never knew that. Are you his primary healer?”

He shakes his head. _“I can be, if that’s what he wants.”_

“I’ll ask him. Thank you again. I’ll comm you if I need anything or to give you an update,” Obi-Wan says, and Gradrrl nods.

_“I’ll bring the antidote up when it is finished. Rest well.”_

Obi-Wan sinks down onto the edge of the armchair and puts his head in his hands. His mind feels like it is being pulled in an infinite number of different directions and he cannot focus. He needs to be centered if he is going to be of any help to Qui-Gon.

**_You haven’t meditated in days._ **

He sits up ramrod straight, then goes back to the bedroom.

“You’re supposed to be sleeping.”

Qui-Gon gives him a guilty smile. “I was. I felt you worrying.”

Before Obi-Wan can apologize or put his shields back up, Qui-Gon is ordering him around.

“You need to meditate. You won’t be any help to me or yourself if you continue on like this. Go get your cushion and sit beside me. That way you’ll know the second I need something and you can relax.”

He really, _really_ hates it when his Padawan is right. It gives him the spine-tingling sensation that in some other universe he was Qui-Gon’s Padawan. He tries not to think about it.

Obi-Wan retrieves his well-worn cushion from the common room and throws it down on the floor right next to the bed. He settles down on it, back to Qui-Gon, and breathes deeply. He listens as his Padawan does the same, but his breathing is heavy and tired. Long fingers card slowly through his hair at the base of his neck, and he smiles at the soothing sensation. After a moment, his hand stops moving and slides down his neck to rest on the bed again. Obi-Wan finds it much easier to find his center and slip into a deep, soothing meditation.

After a long hour of meditation, Obi-Wan feels refreshed and more at peace. When he turns around to see Qui-Gon watching him sleepily, his entire body flushes with warmth. He inadvertently translates the sensation over their bond because Qui-Gon’s cheeks turn pink.

“How are you feeling?” He asks, reaching to take his hand and kiss the back of it.

“A little better,” he mumbles, squeezing Obi-Wan’s hand.

Obi-Wan stands and stretches his arms over his head. Through their bond he feels Qui-Gon’s interested appreciation of his body, and then intense embarrassment at having broadcast it to him. He laughs and sits on the edge of the bed, leaning over him.

“Don’t stop on my account,” he teases, and Qui-Gon covers his face with his hands.

He peels away one hand and kisses his cheek. “It’s flattering, and means I’m not _that_ old yet.”

“Master, you’re not old!” Qui-Gon exclaims.

It is a constant feud between them. Obi-Wan grins at Qui-Gon’s exasperation.

Their door chime sounds.

“That might be Tahl,” Obi-Wan says, tugging lightly on his Padawan’s braid.

He can feel Qui-Gon’s eagerness at the possibility of seeing his friend. The door slides open to reveal Tahl, holding a covered plate and several datapads.

“Good afternoon, Master Obi-Wan,” she says, bowing slightly.

“Good afternoon, Padawan Tahl. Qui-Gon is in my bedroom. You’re welcome to go see him.”

He allows the two friends time to talk and busies himself with straightening up their quarters. He washes their few dirty dishes that had been neglected due to their mission and injuries, and submits an order for food at the kitchen that he will pick up later.

**_You’re doing too much. You need rest too._ **

_Who is the Master in this relationship?_

All he gets in response is cheeky, teasing joy. But his Padawan is right— _again._ He is tired, and not the sort that can be alleviated with meditation.

_I will be in your bedroom if either of you need anything._

**_Sleep well._ **

His Padawan’s bed is drenched in his Force signature, and it is comforting to sink into the sheets with it surrounding him. He finds it very easy to fall asleep and rest, knowing Qui-Gon’s best friend is there to help him if necessary.

When he wakes, the sun has sunk below the horizon and the city is beginning to shift into its nighttime routine. He slips out of his Padawan’s bed and covers his mouth as he yawns. Peeking into his bedroom, he finds Qui-Gon and Tahl watching a holovid on a datapad, Qui-Gon’s head resting on her shoulder. Once they realize he is there, he gets two sweet smiles.

“Did you enjoy your nap, Master?” Qui-Gon asks teasingly, but his voice is strained like he is in pain.

“I did. Thank you for asking. Do you need anything?”

A shake of his head. “I’m fine.”

“I’m going to pick up our food order from the kitchen. I shouldn’t be long,” he says, and Qui-Gon nods.

“We’ll be fine,” Tahl says confidently.

Obi-Wan smiles. “Of that, I have no doubt.”

He goes into the ‘fresher to ensure his hair is not in an embarrassing disarray before he slips out the door.

Upon returning, he opens the door with a vague flick of his fingers and immediately senses another signature in their quarters. He takes the box into the kitchen and then goes back to his bedroom.

Healer Gradrrl is kneeling beside the bed at Qui-Gon’s side, speaking to him, while Tahl sits on the bed on his opposite side. They all look up when he enters.

_“I was just explaining to Qui-Gon that I’ve brought extra supplies for his bandage to be changed more frequently. I’m not certain that the poison will seep out of the wound, but it’s better to be safe and not keep it on his skin if it does.”_

“A smart idea,” he says, going to Gradrrl’s side to listen to the rest of his instructions.

He shows Obi-Wan how much of the antidote to give him and how often. Two doses each day for two weeks should be enough to rid his body of the poison. Gradrrl gives him the first dose and Qui-Gon swallows it, but not without his face screwing up in a grimace.

“Here’s your fresh tea,” Tahl says, handing Qui-Gon the cup.

He drinks it quickly to wash the taste out of his mouth and wrinkles his nose. (Obi-Wan thinks it is the cutest thing he has ever seen.) Gradrrl also has the strong pain medication that will allow him to sleep more restfully.

Tahl takes her leave soon after Healer Gradrrl is gone. Obi-Wan purposefully makes himself busy elsewhere, but as he passes by the room, he sneaks a glance out of the corner of his eye. Tahl kisses Qui-Gon on the cheek and cups his chin in her hand as she speaks to him. If he had not professed his love for Obi-Wan less than a week ago, he would be wholeheartedly convinced that Qui-Gon is smitten with her. She leaves another kiss on his forehead and runs her fingers through his hair as she straightens up to leave. Obi-Wan is watering one of Qui-Gon’s favorite plants when she comes out of the room.

“Goodbye, Master Obi-Wan,” she says with a smile.

“Goodbye, Tahl. Have a nice evening.” He smiles back at her.

Obi-Wan makes himself a cup of tea and goes to join Qui-Gon on the bed. He is sitting up with pillows stacked behind him to cushion his back.

“Qui-Gon?”

Those dark blue eyes find his face instantly. “Yes, Master?”

Obi-Wan settles on the bed next to his Padawan, facing him.

“What do you see yourself wanting from our relationship right now?” He asks, and Qui-Gon chews on his lip.

“I think I would prefer if our relationship was simply platonic right now. I don’t think I want a romantic relationship yet,” he says, and before Obi-Wan can reply, he continues quickly. “But I don’t want to lose your physical affection. I don’t know if that negates the _platonic_ part of the—I’m not making sense.”

He rubs his eyes with the heels of his palms. Obi-Wan sets his tea on the bedside table and moves closer. He grasps one of his Padawan’s wrists gently.

“Qui-Gon, look at me,” he murmurs, tugging lightly. “I need to see your eyes while I speak to you.”

He drops his hands to his lap and breathes heavily, trying to stay calm, but he looks Obi-Wan in the eye.

“I asked you what you want from our relationship, not what you want to call it. Attempting to label something as unique as our relationship will only cause you stress. I want to know what you want from me. How can I make you happy? If you can tell me exactly what you want from me, then I will give it to you. If you do not want me to kiss you somewhere, then I won’t. If you change your mind in three days, all you have to do is say so and we will adjust. You have complete control over this relationship because you haven’t yet reached the age of maturity. I know without a doubt you know the limitations, but I also know you don’t want that type of relationship. But remember that you can still find me attractive and not want a romantic or physical relationship.”

Qui-Gon nods and gives him a tiny smile. “I like what we have right now. I like it when you kiss my forehead and my hands and stroke my hair. I want to do that for you too, but it’s still so new.”

Obi-Wan strokes his Padawan braid and touches his jaw lightly.

“It’s all right. The urge will come to you naturally when you’re ready and comfortable.”

Qui-Gon’s smile is bigger and more genuine, and he looks less upset. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He cups his hand around Qui-Gon’s cheek and kisses his other one. “Now, do you need anything? Are you tired?”

Qui-Gon leans into his touch. “No, I’m not tired. I don’t need anything. I’d just like to . . . be with you, for a while.”

Obi-Wan uses all his strength to hold back his urge to scream into the Force how thankful he is for this boy being in his life.

“Of course.” He shifts them and their pillows around until he is resting on the pillows and Qui-Gon is leaning against his chest.

Obi-Wan feels a surge of contentment from Qui-Gon at the sound of his heartbeat. He closes his eyes and allows the comfortable, easy touch of his Padawan’s Force signature to soothe him.

Both of them sleep much better that night. The pain medication diminishes Qui-Gon’s pain enough to allow him deep, uninterrupted sleep. He curls up around his pillow, and Obi-Wan is almost positive he does not move from that position all night. Because he knows his Padawan is sleeping peacefully, Obi-Wan can rest easier.


End file.
